


All I Got Was This Crappy Training Montage

by Rouge_Angle



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, but still with the ninjas, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 11:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12034629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rouge_Angle/pseuds/Rouge_Angle
Summary: Madara's locked him out again. Obito directs a scowl at the front door and hammers his fist against it, hoping it will wake the bastard up. (Snippet of a modern ninja AU.) MadaObi.





	All I Got Was This Crappy Training Montage

**Author's Note:**

> I am doomed to like rare cracky pairings. DOOMED. I have about 10,000 AUs for these two, but I might make a longer version of this one day after I've exorcised some of my other ideas.

Madara's locked him out again. Obito directs a scowl at the front door and hammers his fist against it, hoping it will wake the bastard up. No lights come on in the house but he wasn't expecting a response. There's no noise at all but the sloshing and tapping of the deer chaser and the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. Granite foxes frame either side of the porch and Obito wedges his phone between one's front paws so he can have the torch to work by as he digs in his pocket for his lock picks. He could just kick the door in, but that would defeat the object, and Madara would only find other ways to torment him. Muttering under his breath about all the ways he's going to get revenge on his mentor ("I'll fill his underwear drawer with ice cubes", "See how you like having to hotwire your precious car jackass" and "I'll bite it next time.") he places two pins into the lock and feels for the tumblers. It's a new lock, but the kind he won't need special technology to open it. Picking it open takes him about three minutes, if he had to guess. He stows his picks, retrieves his phone and shuts the front door behind him.

"Far too slow," Madara's voice issues from the darkness. Obito carefully does _not_ jump, and turns on the light.

Madara is sitting at the bottom of the stairs, holding a stopwatch and looking at Obito with faint disdain. " _And_ you didn't even try the other entrances."

Obito sighs, packing as much frustration and 'I-am-done-with-this-bullshit' into the sound as he possibly can. "If I'd bothered you would've told me I'm like a child who keeps sticking his hand in the fire even after its burnt him and expecting a different result," he drones in the voice of someone who has heard something along those lines a thousand times. He shakes his head. "I'm tired. I just want to go to sleep." He makes to walk past Madara and go upstairs, and stops just in time when Madara grabs his ankle. Growling in frustration, he grabs the banister and kicks Madara with his free leg, aiming for the man's head. Madara blocks and diverts the blow with his forearm and drags Obito off-balance with the grip on his ankle. Obito twists and lets go of the handrail, throwing himself towards his attacker. Both of them roll backwards, spilling on to the hallway floor, and roll some more until they're both on their feet.

"No," Obito says firmly, glaring at Madara's annoyingly smug face. "None of your shinobi-shit, Madara. I'm going to bed."

Madara snorts, dismissing Obito's dismissal as he always does. " _My_ shinobi-shit? You're a shinobi too brat." He waits for Obito to turn and put one foot back on the stairs. "Just not a very good one."

Obito's shoulders stiffen. He won't rise to the bait. He doesn't care about what Madara thinks, he _doesn't_ \--

"It's hardly your fault though, given how little your previous teacher taught you."

Obito whirls around, teeth bared. "Or maybe you're the one who can't teach!" he snaps, feeling the words false in his mouth. Madara's methods are decidedly medieval, not to mention cruel and unusual, but he's learned a lot under the bastard's tutelage.

He's ignored, though Madara's smirk does turn a shade nastier. "Unless you count how to get your squadmates killed."

Obito doesn't even notice he's moved until his fist is striking flesh. His first flurry of wild blows are all blocked, but vicious satisfaction rises in him when he slips one past Madara's guard and slugs him in the gut. The muscle has tensed around the blow automatically. Madara's retaliation is swift and brutal, putting Obito's arm into a hold and twisting until the screaming pain in his shoulder makes him cry out. He knows from experience that if he moves wrong he'll dislocate his shoulder.

Madara's hair tickles his neck as his mouth brushes Obito's ear. "If you were any good at this, you'd know that striking in anger is pointless." He loosens his vice-like hold on Obito's arm and ignores the way his pupil jerks it roughly away. Fingers brush over Obito's skin, massaging feeling back into the arm. "And I want you to be good at this. I push you because I know you can stand up to it. I know that you are capable of being great." Obito shivers as Madara's mouth and his warm breath skim lower, to the curve where neck meets shoulder, kissing the skin.

His feelings for Madara are...complicated. After Rin - after she died, the rest of the clan considered him worthless. He was too badly wounded to continue training as a shinobi, and he'd never been any good at it anyway, they said. "Kinder to ease his passing," they'd said. At the time he'd agreed with them. He hadn't appreciated Madara taking him in at all. Obito had cursed him bitterly during his rehab, and called him all the cunts under the sun when he kept trying to force him back into training.

"I don't understand!" he shouted in Madara's face one night after the older man had dragged him to the seediest dive bar imaginable and proceeded to get him into a huge bar brawl (while naturally escaping without a scratch). "What do you want from me? I'm not anyone special! I'm not...not anyone..."

Madara shook his head, the neon from the bar casting flickering coloured lights over his face. He reached up and caught Obito's face between his hands, tracing the grooves of his scars with his thumb. "You're someone," he said, and he'd kissed him.

Naturally, Obito hadn't let it drop at that, and later Madara had confessed he wanted a partner-in-crime.

"I will destroy those who've wronged me," he'd said in such a light tone that it gave Obito chills. "And build a new empire from their ashes."

Well, he didn't really care about that one way or the other, but whatever. There was kissing. Where the kissing (which Obito was still kind of stunned about because what.) came into Madara's plans, he wasn't sure.

He jerks and sucks in a breath as Madara's teeth press into his skin. That'll leave a mark. "What was _that_ for?"

"You were miles away." Madara leans his cheek against Obito's shoulder and looks up at him. He's slightly shorter than Obito, not that it makes any difference when he basically uses Obito as a mop during training. "Go anywhere interesting on your travels?"

Obito shrugs. "Memory Lane."

"Ah." Madara draws away from him and pushes his hair out of his eyes. "Come and have some _saké_ with me."

"You're such an old man," Obito complains even as he follows him into the living room. "With your traditional Japanese old man drinks. Don't you ever just buy beer?"

Madara treats this question with the contempt he probably feels it deserves, making a bored noise and pouring them both a cup of _saké._ It's sweet, like always; Obito suspects that Madara doesn't buy beer because it doesn't agree with his raging sweet-tooth that he refuses to admit he has.  

It doesn't ever take more than a cup or two to make Obito start feeling light-headed. Madara is always telling him that they're going to have to improve his resistance to things like this in case someone ever slips him something, but that's a lesson they've yet to get round to. As it is now, Obito is tipsy enough that upending his drink over Madara's chest seems like a really good idea. Madara barely has a moment to draw breath to complain before Obito has leaned in to lick the alcohol from his collarbone.

"You're wearing too many shirts. Clothes - I meant too many clothes," he says annoyed with himself. Huffing, he averts his eyes and pulls his own shirt over his head in one smooth motion.

Madara laughs richly and takes his shirt off, drawing Obito's mouth back to his skin. 


End file.
